to abate this sorrow,
this swallowing vacuum succumbed in
a whirlwind of grief,
I stumble to a halt, needing, pleading
limping for a form of inspiration
the thundering bolts which course in my veins,
the sparkling light which shines every morn,
the beautiful way my heart pounds
to the rhythm of my feet,
I grieve over the loss, the startling new reality
so sudden and sharp I almost lost balance,
then had to stop in a cross-section
of cones spilling over pavement
and the magenta sky waning in her descent,
I stop and sit, look and breathe,
and understand that my heart still pounds,
the wind still sings, the light still shines
and my feet will have to rest
why I wait during these days
and cherish the moments
to welcome balance to regain her feet,
like a marvelous, marvelous guest